It started so well. Good house/petsitters; efficient packing (roll don’t fold); timely train transport to the airport. The cute gay boy at the check-in counter asks me if I’m staying in Paris? No I’m not.
Since 1980, my favourite Aunt ‘M’ (who lives in Sydney) has owned a 300-yr old barn in the French countryside.
For years, we have all travelled to and from The Barn (Australians are so good with names aren’t they?) in the Dordogne region; Dad first took me there when I was 15, and I took my son there a couple of years ago when he was 15 (we sat there for 2 months, reading/eating/playing badminton LINK HERE & HERE TO OLD STORIES).
Now we’re all gathering again, for my cousin’s 50th celebration weekend July 14-16. She lives in Sydney too, but has been telling us about this party plan for 3 years, supremely organized being that she is; thus approximately 85 people are turning up- mostly from Australia!
A HUGE EXCITING EVENT.
But first, I have to get there.
It starts so well, with 8 hours flying Brisbane to Singapore: 3 films, a bit of reading and writing, several power walks up the aisles, then I’m there
I’m meeting Aunt M somewhere in the airport, for our direct flight to Paris, then the superfast TGV train down to a town an hour from the Barn. But the carpet is so bright and confusing I give up trying to find her and lie down
Of course we eventually connect at the Gate; it’s now 2am in our body clocks, and we’re both swaying with exhaustion and hunger.
As soon as we’re onboard, Aunt M is happily snoring, and I’m trying to practice my deep breathing through the ongoing turbulence… it’s not that bad, but enough to keep me nervously on edge… I doze a bit…
13 hours later we arrive
Home->car->train->plane->plane->train->car->Barn. Mission accomplished.
And I’m sleeping in a tent under the trees away from the noisy main party area; my perfect orange Crab Cave.
Now I have 2 days to lick the jetlag/slight nausea/slight swaying effects of the privilege of international flight, and get ready to P A R T Y
Happy Bastille Day too everyone: the French National holiday July 14 to celebrate the storming of the Bastille and the revolution by the people!
bone&silver 
Enjoy!
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Oh man, did you have to transport the tent or was that provided once there?!
You made it! 🎉
Have a fabulous time!
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All tents & blow up mattresses provided by my super organized cousin 😊
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Wow, that’s impressive!
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Honey, love the story and the pics!! I can so relate! Ive started writing too so if you want to take a squiz thats me (Sal from Friday Pilates) xx Enjoy France and see you in September xxxx
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Ooh hello!! I’ll check you out for sure… how exciting 😊 xx
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Bravo!!! Those long flights are killers 🙂 … I had the option of a stopover on my flight from OZ to Canada, but I figured best to get it over in one go. 16 hours in one plane with a 2 hour refueling blip in Hawai’i later I staggered out of Vancouver International looking just about like you in that last photo. 😀
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It’s hilarious how bad we can look just a few hours later isn’t it? Like 10 hours in a plane equals 2 years bad living or something! 😖
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I have done those 26 + hour hauls a few times. I don’t know if I could ever do it again. you did so well !
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They’re soooooo long aren’t they? My Mum flew out once from England and just said ‘Never again’ at the airport, & never did (once she’d gone home again of course). Don’t even start me on the jetlag…. 😐
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